Page 3

Vera

I lock the door behind me and stare at my face in the small mirror of the airplane restroom. I look pale. Dark circles beneath my eyes hint at the sleepless nights I’ve had since I made the decision to escape.

I try to see Inessa there in my reflection. After all, I'm not Vera anymore. Vera is dead. According to official records anyway.

But behind my lighter, shorter hair and the contact lenses I’m wearing, I still feel like Vera.

It’s hard to believe my new life is going to be better than it would feel to get off this fucking plane and throw myself into my big soft bed in my comfortable room.

Why does the guy in the seat next to me have to breathe so loudly? And take up so much elbow room?

Don’t people realize how rude they’re being?

I wonder if I can just stay in the restroom for the rest of the flight. I don’t want to go back out there .

After another few minutes there’s a tap on the door. They say something in English but I only catch half of it.

I ignore it.

There are other restrooms.

Eventually there’s more knocking. A woman’s voice speaks. First in English, then in Russian. “Ma’am, are you OK in there? The captain has asked all passengers to return to their seats and fasten their seatbelts. Do you require assistance?”

With a curse I slide the lock back and open the door. The flight attendant on the other side jumps back.

“No. I do not require assistance.” I storm back to my seat and jab my elbow into the meaty elbow of the fat man beside me until he moves his.

I endure another thirty minutes of torture until the plane lands and I can finally get off. My skin is crawling as I step onto the tarmac and hurry to the terminal. Why can’t these people give me some personal space?

I stand in line for an inordinately long time at immigration. The man at the window looks between me and my fake passport so many times I’m sure he’s going to call it out for being fraudulent. In the end, though, he lets me through and I give him the glare he deserves as I snatch it back and stride though to baggage claim. When my bag finally arrives, I haul it off the baggage carousel and head toward the arrivals lounge.

This is it.

This is the moment I meet the monster I agreed to marry.

Only a tiny flutter starts up in my belly when I consider standing face to face with him.

I’ve never met an orc before. I’ve only ever seen monsters in pictures .

Here in the US they apparently roam the streets and run for president.

Or so I’ve heard.

Nothing could be as bad as the fate I’ve escaped though. I know that for certain. It doesn’t matter. This is only temporary. A final hurdle to overcome before I finally clasp the freedom I’ve risked everything for.

Brushing my shoulder length blonde hair back from my face, I stride into the arrivals lounge and look around. The huge green figure sticks out like a sore thumb among the crowd of humans in the airport. For a start, he towers over most of them. But it’s not just that. He takes up twice the space as well. His beefy shoulders spread wide even though he holds his arms close to his body as if to squash himself into the smallest space possible. Then he bumps the lady next to him when a stupid grin splits his face and he lifts a cardboard sign with the words Inessa Bychkova.

It takes me a moment to remember that’s my name.

My new name.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.

He waves and the lady next to him takes a step away. I hesitate for a moment, but there’s no avoiding it. I have no money. I left almost everything I own behind in Moscow. I’ve got no choice but to rely on this brute to take me home and give me somewhere to stay.

With a sigh, I set my shoulders and pull my bag across the tiles until I’m standing directly in front of him.

“Inessa? Hi.” He spreads his arms as if he’s going to go in for a hug, so I hand him my bag. “Yes.”

The grin drops from his face. “Ah, you must be tired.” He says something else that I don’t catch and I simply nod.

“Yes.”

“I, um... I guess you don’t know much English, huh? Well that’s OK. There’s time. And I learned some Russian.” He clears his throat. “Dub-ray-de-na.”

He butchers the word so badly I stare at him for almost a full minute before I realize what he tried to say.

Instead of dignifying that with a response, I turn toward the door. “Car this way?”

“Oh, um. Yeah. I’ll get us a taxi. I’m sure you can’t wait to get home and get to bed.”

He babbles all the way to the taxi and I do my best to let it wash over me as I look around and try to get a sense of what life will be like here.

I’ve seen plenty of films set in America. I have no idea if the real thing will be anything like the fiction though.

In the small, shabby taxi his chunky thigh and bulky arm encroach onto my side of the vehicle. Even the heavily masculine smell of him fills the small space. I turn my head toward the window, but I can’t escape the awareness of him. It tightens the muscles in my belly and makes my pulse tap at the base of my neck.

I am alarmed by my reaction to him. I haven’t reacted this way to any man since the first time I met Dmitri. That memory overtakes me for a moment and I have to swallow down bile as nausea rises in my throat.

It’s a timely reminder of why I’ve resorted to this. Anything is better than letting Dmitri touch me again.

The orc’s meaty hand closes over my thigh and I jump .

“Here we are.”

I turn to glare at him. “No touch.”

The oaf snatches back his hand immediately, thank god. We get out of the taxi in silence and he pays the driver and picks up my bag. “Ah, sorry about that. I get it. No need to rush things. We’ll wait until you’re comfortable.”

As he opens the door to the apartment building and holds it open for me, I give him a curt nod. I should make more of an effort to be friendly. At least for a while.

But secretly I’m glad of the excuse to keep some space between us.

I wonder how long I can make use of it.